I'm rather busy at the moment (having this week become a father for the second time) so here's just a brief landscape thought to ponder from Fernando Pessoa's The Book of Disquietude (trans. Richard Zenith):
'Useless landscapes like those that circumscribe Chinese teacups, starting out from the handle and abruptly ending at the handle. The cups are always too small... Where would the landscape continue and with what (...) of porcelain, if it could continue past the teacup handle?
Certain souls are able to feel a profound sorrow because the painted landscape on a Chinese fan isn't three dimensional.'